


Years Go By

by edibleflowers



Series: do not go gentle [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, So that's a thing, Suit Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 07:39:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10239227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: A year after the dawn returned, there is a ceremony to remember it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arumattie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arumattie/gifts).



> So this is for Arumattie, because she asked for something like this on tumblr and I'm not sure this is what she wanted but it's what came out! (Ew.)

"Arms," Prompto says, and Ignis obligingly holds his arms up in the appropriate position. Prompto guides the sleeves to Ignis's hands; from there, Ignis easily slides the suit jacket on and settles it into place, fingers finding the button and closing it with neat precision.

"How do I look?" Ignis asks. One hand goes to his tie, adjusting the knot yet again; swallowing, Prompto steps around him and catches his hand to make him stop fussing with it.

"You look great," Prompto tells him. In truth, 'great' is an understatement. Even with the scar marring his face, Ignis is still pretty much the most beautiful thing Prompto's ever seen, and in his life Prompto's been lucky enough to see some exquisite things.

Ignis is as rangy and lithe as ever: some people run to fat later in life, but Ignis isn't one of those, even though they no longer have to maintain a certain level of physical ability as part of their daily lives. He and Prompto still run every morning (since Prompto _is_ one of those people who'll run to fat if he doesn't work out), but there are no daemons to defend against, no Niflheim army to fight off... and no king to protect, either. (At least most days, it doesn't bother Prompto too much to remember that fact anymore.)

Stepping back, Prompto gives his lover a once-over. Ignis's suit fits him perfectly; a dress shirt beneath a fitted waistcoat, and over it, the jacket tailored nicely to show the taper of his chest to his narrow waist. Ever one to pay attention to the details, Ignis has a pocket square and tie to match (Prompto does like making sure Ignis has everything just how he wants it).

"The truth, now," Ignis says, and Prompto can't help but smile even as he steps close again, a hand brushing nonexistent lint from Ignis's shoulder, then nudging in closer for a soft kiss.

"Honestly? I can't wait to tear this suit off you, you look so good in it."

Ignis smiles against his lips, hands curving low at Prompto's ass. Helpless to do anything but respond, Prompto hums into the kiss, rocking his hips into the solidity of Ignis's body.

"Flatterer," Ignis murmurs, but he's smiling as Prompto pulls back from the kiss. "Now go get dressed, before we're late for the ceremony."

Reluctant, Prompto steps away, hand still holding Ignis's for a moment. "Raincheck," he says with a smile, and heads into the bedroom.

* * *

Reconstruction in Lucis is a slow, ongoing process. After a year, though, as the population has begun to return, much of the major debris has been cleared away, and the focus on restoring only certain sectors of the city at first is slowly paying off. The Citadel is relatively intact, despite damage to the upper levels; it's become a hub of organization for the new government of Lucis.

As Prompto and Ignis head from the apartment building where they've been staying since reconstruction officially began, they're joined by others in the streets, heading toward the Citadel at the center of the city. Prompto still can't quite believe it's only been a year since -- since everything happened. Once word got out that the scourge had finally been defeated (not a difficult bit of news to spread, with light returning to the world almost instantly at the moment of Noct's sacrifice), refugees from Lucis began to return, led by hunters and other figures who'd helped organize the people during the years of darkness, Dustin and Monica Elshett among them. Insomnia won't return to the size of population it once held for many years to come, but it's beginning to feel vibrant and alive once more.

Along the way, Gladio finds them; Iris and Talcott are with him, and Cindy, too, here from Hammerhead with Cid to celebrate the anniversary of the dawn's return. The official ceremony is being held on the steps of the Citadel, the wide round plaza before it opened to the public and blocked from traffic for the day. When they arrive, the plaza's already full of people; Gladio, Prompto and Ignis have to gently push their way through the crowds to get to the steps where Monica, Dustin, and Dave await them.

"I hate this," Gladio mutters when they're in place. He looks good in a suit, too, though he's clearly uncomfortable in it, twitching and pulling at his collar.

"We know," Ignis says, with the hint of a wry smile, and Prompto chuckles.

"It won't take long," he observes.

"Ain't that." Gladio goes still as Monica begins her speech, reminding everyone first of the ten years of darkness they endured, how they'd thought light might never return to the world -- and how they survived in spite of it, banding together and pooling resources to survive. "It's ridiculous to have us up here, like we had anything to do with it. Noct was the one who did it."

Prompto swallows, looking down. Gladio had argued against the inclusion of the three of them in this ceremony for this very reason, and he couldn't say he didn't see the big man's point. They'd fought at Noct's side, sure, and defended him right up to the end -- but they'd been unable to do anything to help him. Noct had had to face the end alone.

"We know the truth," Ignis murmurs. "We have to endure in his memory. And we can at least be symbols for the people to remember what they've lost. So few of them truly knew that Noctis was the one to defeat Ardyn and end the Starscourge. If we can help bring awareness to that truth, I will happily stand through a hundred speeches like this."

Gladio's quiet, for a moment; then his hand bumps against Ignis's in silent acknowledgement of his words. Just then, Monica turns, her hand sweeping to indicate the three of them where they stand off to the side, and applause and cheers fill the plaza. Prompto swallows hard. He wants Noct to be here to see this.

* * *

After the speeches and cheering, they're released to mingle. There's a fireworks display and music, and street vendors have set up their trade on every corner. Gladio bids them farewell, with a squeeze of a big hand to both Prompto's and Ignis's shoulders, then disappears into the crowd.

"Huh. So much for catching up," Prompto says.

Ignis catches Prompto's hand in his own, their fingers weaving together. "Don't forget, this isn't an easy day for Gladio," he says, low but close to Prompto's ear so that he can hear him clearly over the noise around them. 

"Yeah." Guiltily, Prompto holds on to Ignis's hand, remembering the despair in which Gladio had dwelled for weeks after Noct's death. Even though they'd known the sacrifice was coming, it hadn't made acceptance any easier for Gladio. It may have been a year ago, but Prompto knows Gladio still feels Noctis's absence keenly -- and more today, a year since their friend's death. 

He doesn't blame him. If it had been him losing Ignis, Prompto probably wouldn't ever get over it.

"What say we get out of here?" Ignis says, and Prompto smiles in relief and nods. 

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

They're pushing against the flow of traffic now -- most people around them are still moving in a general Citadel-wards direction -- but eventually they make it past the worst of the crowds and off to the quieter side street of their apartment building. In the elevator, Ignis slips his arm around Prompto's shoulder; Prompto leans gratefully into Ignis's warmth.

"Love you," he says absently. Ignis kisses his temple; Prompto can feel the smile.

"A whole year," Ignis replies. "Do you know, the light felt a little brighter today."

"Yeah?" Prompto looks up, his own smile warming. He tries not to get excited about changes in Ignis's vision, but over the past year, there has been some gradual, mild improvement. Ignis will probably never regain sight the way it was before; still, measurably, his good eye is getting better at recognizing light and dark, and Prompt continues to hope for more.

"Just a little." The elevator stops on their floor, and Ignis's arm moves to Prompto's waist as they head down the hall to their apartment. A deft hand finds its way under Prompto's jacket, warm between the fabric of the coat and the shirt beneath; Prompto shivers while he unlocks the door. Then they're inside, and Prompto kicks the door shut with one foot even as Ignis turns to him, hands going to Prompto's suit jacket to peel it from him.

"Ignis," Prompto breathes. Ignis backs him into the bench by the door; Prompto sits hard, the jacket already fallen, his hands going automatically to Ignis's jacket to get started on undressing him too.

"Even if I can't see you," Ignis murmurs, standing between Prompto's knees, "I can imagine just how handsome you look in that suit. I've been thinking about it all morning." Deft fingers loosen Prompto's tie, tug it out of the neat knot he'd put it in -- Prompto's never gotten the hang of tying a necktie -- and then start in on the buttons of his shirt.

Almost belated, Prompto begins to do the same. Ignis has more layers -- there's the waistcoat to undo before he can get to the tie, and by the time he's unbuttoning Ignis's shirt, Ignis has Prompto bared to the waist. Ignis himself still has the waistcoat and shirt on, hanging open to show off the still-trim lines of his chest and abs. It's such an inviting image that Prompto can't help but slide his hands in under the shirt, feeling body warmth trapped beneath the layers, the smooth skin occasionally marred with an old scar from their days as daemon hunters.

It's only been a year, but in ways it feels longer, and for a moment Prompto gives in to the need to simply slide his arms around Ignis and clutch him close. His cheek pressed to the bare skin of Ignis's chest, he closes his eyes, breathing in the musky scent of his lover. Ignis's hands stroke his shoulders, fingers carding his hair, skimming down his back.

"Everything all right?" Ignis murmurs. Gentle lips press a kiss into Prompto's hair.

Prompto smiles, cherishing the warmth of Ignis, the slender lithe body in his arms, for another moment. "Everything's perfect," he replies, and turns his head so that he can kiss Ignis, right over his heart.

* * *

They make their way easily back to the bedroom, a cat skittering out of the way as they go (Prompto insisted when he found the poor little thing, half-starved and eyes gunky with infection; it's a sleek, full-grown black shadow of a beast now with big golden eyes and an unwavering instinct to avoid Ignis's feet); by the time they reach the door, Prompto's kicked his shoes off and finished undressing Ignis from the waist up. He can't seem to stop touching Ignis today, a hand skimming over the lean overlapping muscles of Ignis's back, drifting down to grasp his ass, up again to Ignis's nape and the short fluffy hair there.

"Not that I'm complaining, but you are particularly handsy today," Ignis comments when his thighs bump into the mattress where Prompto's guided him. 

"I like touching you," Prompto says. "Sue me." He gives Ignis a nudge, and the other man falls, chuckling, to the bed. A moment later, Prompto's over him and unbuckling his belt, undoing the trousers. His fingers slip into the opening of Ignis's pants, palm forming over Ignis's cock, warm and half-hard in the boxer-briefs. Ignis hisses, hips rocking upward, cock stiffening with every slide of Prompto's palm.

"I like it when you touch me too," Ignis gasps.

"Noticed that." Prompto allows himself to enjoy teasing Ignis for a moment more, the heated hard line of him separated from Prompto's hand by thin flimsy fabric; then he hooks his thumbs in the waist of Ignis's pants and tugs them down. Ignis wriggles free gladly, pushing down on the boxer-briefs as well until his cock pops free of the restraining underwear. He lets out a sound, a sigh of relief, and Prompto inhales. 

He probably won't ever be over the sight of Ignis naked. As long as they've been together, as many times as he's seen Ignis without clothes on, Prompto still finds himself taken aback by Ignis's lean body, the casual strength of him, pectorals and abdominals cleanly defined, strong legs sprawled easily on the bed ( _their_ bed), stiff erection jutting from a thatch of sandy-brown hair... the combined vision makes Prompto want to fall to his knees in unconscious worship.

He can do one better than that, at least, and he grins to himself as he climbs onto the bed, nudging Ignis's thighs apart so that he can kneel between them.

"Hm?" Ignis sounds almost bored; indeed, he stretches his hands behind his head as if he's resting. "Did you have something in mind, then?"

"Do I ever," Prompto breathes, and leans in.

He'll never be able to get enough of this, either. Ignis's cock fits perfectly in the curve of Prompto's palm, his fingers loose around the shaft: just holding him up, for a moment, savoring the heat of him, the salty scent of clear liquid at the tip. (The way Ignis shudders, giving the lie to his calm demeanor, is a bonus.) Prompto inhales; then his tongue dips out, tastes, darts, short licks giving way gradually to longer ones. Stroke by stroke, he takes Ignis apart.

He pauses, when Ignis has reduced to shivering moans, to finish undressing himself, hasty hands undoing his own belt and pants, shoving the whole lot down around his ankles and letting it all fall off the bed. Even the brief cessation has Ignis panting, and one hand reaches to his shoulder, grasps at his nape. "Please," Ignis mewls.

"Do you want to come like this?" Prompto's voice is hoarse now, rougher; he watches Ignis's chest heave, watches Ignis's free hand scrabbles across the sheets. "Or on my cock? 'Cause I want to fuck you, Ignis, I'm dying to be in you, but I'll do whatever you want. You want me to ride you? Want to sit on my face?" His thumb, steadying at the base of Ignis's erection, strokes lazily. Ignis makes a sound that's almost a sob.

"Fuck me," he breathes. "Gods, Prompto, just fuck me, I just want to feel you filling me up, I'm going to go mad if you don't--"

Prompto lets out a low moan and nods, even though Ignis can't see it. "You've got me," he promises. They're far enough up on the bed now that he can reach over for the drawer in the nightstand where they keep supplies, and Prompto's fingers unerringly close on a familiar bottle.

As often as they've done this, Prompto still likes to take his time. It's part of the ritual, but he loves the effect it has on Ignis, too: if he can make Ignis, with his inestimable depths of calm, impatient with want, he knows he's done well. He slips one slicked-up finger into Ignis, then another, working them together, his free hand smoothing over Ignis's belly and thigh, reaching up to tweak at a nipple then sliding back down to the soft smooth indent in his hip. Every part of Ignis is so beautifully made.

Ignis's hand finally grasps at Prompto's wrist and he hisses, "Enough, Prompto, I'm going to come if you don't stop--" 

Prompto slips the three fingers he's been twisting in Ignis free, swallowing hard. "Got me, Ig, I'm not gonna leave you hanging, you know that." He pauses only long enough to add more lube to his own stiff cock, bobbing neglected between them; then, with Ignis pulling at him, he settles between those strong thighs, sets himself, leaning far over Ignis so that he can kiss him even as he starts to push in.

Outside, the renewed Insomnia rings with celebration. They can hear the shouting from the tenth floor; music from some band blasts on a PA, mixed with cheering, shouting, and the general noise of humanity. Prompto hears it all as if from some dream, background music to this moment with Ignis. He wants to go slow, but Ignis's calm is well and truly shattered at this point, and firm hands grasp at Prompto's hips to encourage speed and pressure. Prompto can never resist giving Ignis what he wants. Within a dozen strokes he's fucking Ignis hard, fast, driving deep into Ignis's heat with every thrust, and Ignis's raspy moans and cries only encourage him on.

A long-fingered hand slips between them, and Prompto has to look, to see Ignis's fingers on himself, working his own cock. Fireworks go off in the back of Prompto's brain: the sight is unspeakably erotic, especially when he thinks of how Ignis knows just what he needs right now, the rub of his own thumb over the head, fast slides on the shaft--

"Come on," Prompto mutters, bending to deliver the words into Ignis's ear. "Wanna see you come, I love feelin' it, seein' you let go. You gonna come for me, Ignis?"

And Ignis, gorgeously, does.

Prompto pulls back just in time to get a splattering of wet on his chest, a couple of drops as high as his collarbone. Ignis, shaking and trembling underneath him, is the epitome of beauty, and Prompto fixes his eyes on Ignis's face and fucks him through his orgasm, grinds until he can't stand it any longer and flings himself off the edge after Ignis.

He collapses half on Ignis, half on his side, air-starved lungs forcing him to gasp for oxygen. One of Ignis's lean arms comes around him, and for a long time they simply lay together, recovering.

"That was something," Ignis murmurs, a little while later, when Prompto thinks he's gone to sleep.

"Something?" Prompto asks. He tips his head up, chin resting on Ignis's chest, so that he can take in Ignis's face. "Something good?"

"Something else." Ignis smiles, lifts his head up, and Prompto meets him halfway with a kiss.

"I love you, Ignis Scientia," he says. He never says it to get a response out of Ignis, who's more taciturn, less likely to open up about his feelings; he just likes being able to express the feeling as often as possible.

This time, though, Ignis gathers Prompto in again and kisses the top of his head before quietly saying, "I love you, too, Prompto Argentum."

They're still sticky, ejaculate cooling and drying to an unpleasant itchy mess between them. Prompto will get up and deal with it in a little bit. For now, he doesn't want to move.


End file.
